Dead Man's Thoughts
by tiny-phoenix
Summary: The thoughts going through Peeta Mellark's mind as he witnesses the tragic reaping of Primrose Everdeen.


I feel so numb. The name rings through my head, stinging me. The air buzzes around me, making it feel as if I'm in some sort of cloud, some gas that is blurring my vision slightly and disorienting me for a moment. But there she is. The name still echoes. The woman in pink, Effie Trinket, is the sole person applauding at this moment. She wears her plastered-on smile and looks like she is close to hopping up and down from excitement. She looks around at the Peacekeepers, encouraging them to clap and smile as well, but they can only stare in solemnity as this little girl is encompassed by other Peacekeepers. They do not smile, either. The name is still flitting around my ears and it seems as if the echo of Effie's voice has never died out. I can still hear it, loud. As if she was repeating it, over and over.

"Primrose Everdeen!"

I shudder involuntarily. I look around. Most of the other boys have their heads down, but they occasionally rise up to watch the girl be escorted to the stage. I think I'm the only one who can't tear my eyes away. Prim looks scared, so very scared. She stiffly walks with the Peacekeepers, looking porcelain and fragile. Her hair is blown across her face a little bit by the wind but she does not raise a hand to fix it. I don't even think she notices.

The people watching from around the square are very unhappy. You can hear it in the murmur of their voices, you can see it in the way they shake their heads, the way that wives bury their heads into the shoulders of their husbands. No one makes a move, though. They remain still, bolted in place by the horror and unfairness of the situation. I know what they are thinking. It's a shame. It's the same thing they think every year, except this time it truly is a damn shame. An unfair waste of life. Everyone knows Prim. Everyone knew Prim.

Then I hear it. I hear the sound of scuffling feet and I hear _her_ voice. "_Prim!_" she shrieks, dashing out of the girl's side. She stands in the middle aisle and then breaks down the path as fast as she can. Prim stops walking and looks back, her face contracting into a sorrowful, horrible look. She is about to cry. Peacekeepers step forward to restrain Katniss. She tries to shove through them anyway, but the men are much larger than she is and they keep her back, away from her sister. "_No!"_ she screams, hitting the uniformed men and staring wide-eyed and alarmed at Prim.

The words come. The words that shake my bones and make my heart feel as if a cold needle has pierced it. She screams them, and the square goes absolutely silent. The murmurs stop. The wives peek out of their husband's shoulders to witness the even more tragic turn of events that has taken place. This does not appease the crowd. This does not appease anyone. This is horror, this is sadness, this a grey bleakness that will not soon lift from the district, this is a scorched black mark that will not soon be erased from our minds. She screams again, and it is no less chilling the second time. "I volunteer!" she screams shrilly. "_I volunteer as tribute!_"

I hear myself whisper, very softly, "No.."

The Peacekeepers take a step back from Prim and look up at the stage, at Effie. She looks like she is just about ready to keel over from the sheer excitement that she is experiencing and in that moment I want to leap onto the stage and shove her off, just on principle. The woman squeals and claps her hands even louder, bouncing up and down. "Oh! Oh! Yes, yes! A volunteer!" Oh, good for you, Effie. Now the Peacekeepers retreat fully from Prim's vicinity, instead taking up the task of escorting Katniss to the stage. I see a boy run forward and snatch up Prim, who has now changed places with her sister and is scrabbling frantically at the boy's grip, screaming and trying to reach Katniss. He carries her off, no doubt to the relative safety of her mother's arms. Katniss walks to the stage, her eyes looking glazed and unfocused.

She stands there next to Effie and she does not cry. She merely looks out over the crowd, seemingly at nothing specifically. She does not look for where her mother and Prim stand. She doesn't look for the boy who took away Prim, Gale. She stands there. She does not smile, either, and she blatantly ignores Effie's futile attempts to get her to clap. The square is completely silent but that silence is finally broken by Effie's loud, too-effeminate throat-clearing cough. She leans in again the microphone. "Well! Wasn't that exciting! Let's keep the ball rolling and choose our male tribute!"

What more can happen on this day? No one wants to go up there. I mean, normally, no one would want to be chosen, anyway, but now they _really_ don't want it. To be chosen to go up onto that stage and to look into Katniss' eyes means that you will either kill her, she will kill you, or neither of you will come back to District 12 in one piece. The mere thought of this opens a pit in the bottom of my stomach. I can't take my eyes off of Katniss, not even for a second. Somewhere behind me, I can still hear Prim crying and in that moment, I make a silent vow to myself. I will try to help them. If Katniss does not come back, I will do everything I can for them, whether they want it or not. I try to block out Prim's sniffles, but it's tough when it's the only sound emanating from any part of the square. The kid next to me takes a deep breath and holds it. Right, I almost forgot. They're choosing the boy next.

Still, Katniss does not meet anyone's gaze, although I doubt that anyone in the crowd is trying to catch her eye. I barely even notice Effie reaching into the other glass bowl, fishing around for the name of the poor soul who will go with Katniss to Capitol. I shudder again. This will not be the last time I see Katniss. I will have to watch her on television in the Games.

I am running through the scenario in my head, the first time I will have to sit down in front of the television and watch Katniss battle it out with the other tributes when my name is called. At first I don't register it, still meandering through the situation in my head, but when the boy next to me exhales deeply in relief, I come back to reality. Wait. _What did she just say_?

"Peeta Mellark!"

I do not move. I can see the Peacekeepers moving forward from the stage, coming to retrieve me. I look over at one of my brothers. He does not meet my gaze, keeping his eyes directed towards the cemented ground. I look at another. Same response. I do not even bother looking for the third. I force my legs to move, although they feel so much like jelly that I'm surprised that I do not fall flat on my face. I step out into the aisle and the Peacekeepers engulf me. I can feel the regret coming off of their bodies in waves. They just want this event and this day to be over, I think everyone does. The square is still silent. I can't even hear Prim crying anymore but maybe that's just because I'm too far away from her now.

I just watch my feet as I shuffle to the bottom of the stage. I do not look up at the applauding, smiling Effie or the stoic, apparently dazed-out Katniss. I just look down. I wonder if I will ever see this horrible concrete ground ever again. I look up and around slightly at the Justice Building. Will I ever see this again? I begin the climb to the stage. As I turn around at the top, I look out over the crowd, honestly trying to memorize as many faces as I can. I do not look for my brothers and I do not look for my parents. I can't blame any of my brothers for not taking my place. I can't even say if I would do the same for them.

I come to a stop on the other side of Effie and she places a perfumed hand on my shoulder, leaning into the microphone again. "Oh,very good! I present to you our District 12 tributes, Peeta Mellark and Katniss Everdeen!"

There are eyes on me. And not only the eyes of the crowd. Other eyes. The eyes that I do not want on me right now. Before I can even stop myself, I look up to meet them. I can't decipher the look in her eyes but she stares anyway, and I stare right back. I don't even know what look I'm giving her right now. Do I look defeated? Angry? Sad? I don't know. All I know is that I've been thinking the same exact thing the whole time. _Why did it have to be her?_ Katniss looks away first and after a second, I follow suit. I drown out Effie's gushing talk with my own, horribly loud thoughts and by the time I begin listening to the outside world again, Effie is bidding everyone a happy Hunger Games and I am being led away, into the Justice Building.

I do not dare to look at Katniss again.


End file.
